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Not long after Smith Doyle and Fox caught up, the once-clear sky suddenly darkened, as if a violent storm were about to break.
At that moment, John Wick, dragging his wounded body, slowly emerged from the park. A hitman stepped forward and blocked his path.
"John, you've got less than an hour left," the man said. "I'll pay you one hundred million if you bring me those two Dragon Balls. What do you say?"
Seeing the man's gaze fixed on the Dragon Balls in his hand, John Wick shot him a cold look and replied,
"Not for sale."
Hearing the refusal, the hitman spoke again.
"Then tell me what they're worth. In exchange, I won't touch you for the next hour."
John Wick knew very well that if he revealed the secret of the Dragon Balls, he would certainly die—and fail the trial as well.
"If you want to die," he said calmly, "come find me in an hour."
The hitman shrugged. He was just looking to make some extra money. John Wick's price had gone up—and so had the value of the Dragon Balls on him. There were even rumors that someone on the black market was considering forging Dragon Balls. However, no one had ever seen a real one, nor did anyone know their true value.
Perhaps only John Wick and the Camorra knew that secret.
John Wick knew his destination was the Assassins' Guild textile factory, but it was far too distant. There was only one thing he could do now—head to the New York Public Library on Park Avenue, where he had hidden some gold coins and an item that could help him escape: a Ruska Roma passage token.
If you can't break through the encirclement on your own, you can use this token to request their help and be taken there.
At that moment, torrential rain began to pour down.
John Wick stepped onto the street, quickly flagged down a taxi, and said,
"New York Public Library."
The driver glanced back at him.
"Got it."
The car immediately set off, but before it had gone far, it was trapped in traffic. It was rush hour, and the heavy rain made the congestion unbearable.
Listening to the constant blaring of horns and watching the car crawl forward less than ten meters at a time, John Wick grew anxious. After a brief analysis, he realized that if he stayed in the car, not only would he fail to reach the Assassins' Guild—he wouldn't even make it to the library.
Holding an umbrella, Fox said,
"What rotten luck. There's an accident up ahead."
"But it looks intentional."
Smith chuckled.
"Someone doesn't want him leaving by vehicle."
"After all, in New York, an hour by car can cover a lot of distance."
As they spoke, John Wick had already reached the same conclusion. He opened the door and stepped out of the taxi.
Once on foot, John Wick sprinted toward the library.
At that moment, every assassin on the street had their eyes on John Wick—but no one made a move. The time hadn't come yet. No one dared break the rules of the Continental Hotel.
Soon, John Wick reached the New York Public Library, running through the pouring rain.
He rushed to the service desk and immediately spoke to the librarian:
Alexander Afanasyev's Russian Fairy Tales, 1864 edition.
John Wick watched as the librarian searched for the book's storage location. He didn't rush him—he merely checked the time, confirming that the one-hour grace period hadn't expired.
Before long, the librarian finished the search, opened a slip of paper, and said,
"Second floor."
"Thank you."
John Wick took the note and hurried upstairs.
Fox followed Smith inside, looking puzzled.
"Why did he come here?"
"Shouldn't we be going to the textile factory?"
"Is there some kind of secret weapon here that can help him?"
Smith nodded.
"Yes. There has to be something here that can help him—otherwise, he wouldn't have come."
Smith glanced at the timer on the detector and smiled.
"Tell me—does anyone dare act early?"
Fox scanned the people in the library and said,
"You once said that people die for money, just as birds die for food. Someone will be brave enough to do it."
"After all, John Wick isn't the only one who's ever broken the rules inside a hotel."
Smith smiled and nodded. The assassin's world had never lacked for brave—or foolish—men.
Meanwhile.
Charon drove Winston back to the Continental Hotel.
After entering, Charon said,
"I truly hope Mr. Wick makes it out alive."
As Winston adjusted his collar and walked forward, he replied,
"Charon knowingly violated the rules and killed someone inside the hotel."
Charon followed behind and asked,
"Do you think he can escape punishment?"
Winston turned to look at him.
"He's carrying two Dragon Balls. The bounty is two billion dollars. Every assassin in the city wants a piece of that."
"I'd say his chances are fifty percent—assuming he can reach that place and secure their protection."
Charon asked, confused,
"Where?"
In his eyes, with the entire city hunting him, even the legendary Baba Yaga, John Wick, wouldn't survive the night.
Winston smiled.
"Smith Doyle promised that as long as John Wick can make contact with their forces, he will protect him."
"A power capable of rivaling the High Table."
"If he reaches them alive, he lives. If he doesn't, he dies on the way."
With that, Winston went upstairs.
Charon stood there, stunned, staring after him. He couldn't imagine what kind of force could stand against the High Table—nor could he imagine that Smith Doyle possessed such overwhelming power.
The library.
John Wick followed the note and arrived at the second-floor stacks.
He found the book and tore off the label. Inside were three items: a photograph of his late wife, five gold coins, and a passage token.
He placed the photograph on the shelf, counted the coins, and slipped them into his pocket. Then he took the token and did the same.
After that, John Wick picked up the photo of himself and Helen.
"Soon," he whispered, "we'll see each other again."
He kissed the photo and placed it back into the album.
At that moment, a voice suddenly echoed in his ear:
"Consider why God created you."
"It was not for you to live like beasts, but to pursue virtue and knowledge."
Accompanied by heavy footsteps, a giant over two meters tall stepped out, holding a book in his hand, and said to John,
"Dante."
He showed the book's cover to John Wick, indicating that the words were written inside, then placed the book back onto the shelf.
John Wick, in turn, returned his own book to the shelf.